Bekah

I have not written anything for public eyes in a very long time. Partially this is because I have been busy. But mostly this is because the ways in which my faith has been shifting scares me. Not because of the content of my beliefs, but because I care what you think. I am writing now because I have been holding these thoughts in for a long time, and I need to say them out loud. Please read this knowing that I post it with trembling hands.

A few months ago, I attended general assembly for my church denomination. I participated in a session where people my age were invited to answer questions about faith and the church; the president was there, along with a handful of other senior church leaders.

The question was asked: what do you value most in a faith community? (at least I think this was the question...) My answer was diversity. I value having people at the table who don’t think the same way as me. I value equal numbers of men and women; people from multiple cultural backgrounds; people who represent the LGBTQA+ community; people who represent the broad spectrum that is conservative to liberal. I value having a safe space to include everyone at the table. Because that is what I believe Jesus did: he made it safe for everyone to come to the table without judgement.

The response from my elders was enlightening. “This is very interesting,” they commented, “because for us, traditionally, we have found safety in being in a community where we all believe the same things.”

On a psychological level, I totally get that. That is a safe place for many people. But I think we have reached a point where we need to acknowledge (please, can we acknowledge?) that this is not a safe place for all people.

There are countless places in the bible where people were convicted to leave this safe place of sameness. In fact, I would argue that this idea is a part of the overarching narrative of scripture: Abram to God knows where; Jonah to Nineveh; Peter to the Gentiles; Saul from destruction in the name of religion to peace in the name of a Jesus who invites us all to the table, a Christ who allows us to dwell in a safe place of diversity.

I have to admit that my heart is kind of broken about some things. Evangelical Christianity, I don’t know if you’re safety of sameness is a safe place for me. But I really, really want you to be a safe place for me. That is why I have been so committed to you, even as I doubt and question things that we have come to disagree on. So here is what I want to say to you, my church:

Can I stay?

Even if I believe the authors of scripture were flawed people? Even if I believe that scripture shouldn’t always be read literally?

Can I stay even if I believe that LGBTQA+ people can be LGBTQA+ and Christian at the same time? Even if I believe that they would, and do, make incredible church leaders?

Can I stay even if I believe that women can and should be senior pastors?

Can I stay even if I believe that it should be possible for a person to get to their wedding night and not wake up the next morning feeling dirty for enjoying it? Even if I think the way we talk about sexuality is broken? (Because it seems it is psychologically impossible to switch from feeling dirty for considering yourself a sexual being one day, to feeling good and fulfilled the next).

Can I stay even if I believe that doubt is okay and not necessarily evidence of spiritual darkness, but instead evidence of trying to make my faith my own?

Because I don’t want to go. I want you to love me for where I am at. I want to feel safe talking to you about these things. I want my friends who are feminist, liberal, gay, and from different cultural backgrounds to feel welcome at the table. Will you let me welcome them? Will you welcome them with me?

I want to be able to say these things and not be labeled dangerous. I want to feel welcomed and appreciated for my point of view. I want to partner with you to create a space that is a place of safe diversity.

Saying these things makes me feel very vulnerable. I am not ready to hear theological arguments against me. I am not ready to be “challenged.” I know that for some that is the loving way to respond. But please hear me:

As I am writing this, there are tears in my eyes. Because I dream of being a valuable part of you, church. I dream of being a leader: one who encourages, one who preaches, one who invites people to the table. I dream of these things but I am so scared. I am scared you won’t let me. I’m scared you will tell me that the conclusions I am balancing precariously upon are evil, sinful and wrong. I’m scared of being shut out. Of being told that what dwells in my heart is not the same Holy Spirit that dwells in yours.

I think I have decided that doubt is not a dirty word. This place where I am currently dwelling is not evil, sinful, or wrong. Because it has given me the ability to see God where before he did not exist. Because from it I have entered a deeper and more meaningful faith. And I think that I can lead from this place, if you’ll let me.

I love you, church. I love the Jesus that we both adore. I want to stay.

You may or may not know this, but I have been given an amazing opportunity to travel to Cambodia this month. I am way super excited, and wanted to share all of the details with you!

My team and I will be working with a couple in Siem Riep to do two things:

a) Give local leaders the training and resources they need to use Alpha

b) Teach local people the next steps to further claim card making (in partnership with Work of Your Hand) as their own.

The latter is what I will be doing. Here is a picture of me and the Cool Cards Team:

As you can see, we are very excited!! We’ve spent the last month learning the skills that we will be teaching to the people in Cambodia. This next step will create more sustainable income there, and allow the workers to take even more ownership of their work. Yay for #helpingwithouthurting!

There are a few ways you can partner with me on this adventure:

1. Follow my blog and/or instagram account (rebekahhagan) as I will post updates there.

2. Think of us as we travel and experience a new culture, make new friends, and face the realities of life in Cambodia.

3. Of course adventures are not free! I am about 1/3 of the way to my fundraising goal of $3200. If you want to support me financially, you can follow this link: http://bit.ly/2avrt9P or contact Foothills Alliance Church.

I look forward to sharing with you! I am so thankful to have such an amazing and supportive community.

Sometimes I ponder why, or how, I’m still a Christian. I have so many friends who have left or who have questioned or who have chosen a different path. Christianity has problems. The bible has issues that are hard and/or impossible to give satisfactory explanation. The church has chewed up and spit out countless people in its pursuit of power. There are so many other options for how to live my life. There are a lot of valid reasons to leave. 

Last Friday my car broke down. It’s funny how when I picture the phrase “broke down” I see smoke, maybe some flames, and an exploding gas tank. (Okay, so maybe I don’t take it quite that far.) But what I don’t picture is a brake pedal that goes all the way to the ground and a mechanic saying incredulously “You’re not going to try to drive that thing here, are you?!” over the phone. 

And so I spent three hours in my car in the parking lot of a Korean Presbyterian Church waiting for a tow truck. After posting an accidentally gorgeous selfie (honest, I wasn’t even trying! Thank you instagram filters) about my plight, I was pleasantly surprised by texts and Facebook comments and likes of solidarity. 

My roommate came to pick me up to take me to the train station so I could make it to work. My coworkers got me numbers of mechanics and offered me rides. I went for Thai food with two of them, and one of them drove me home (like WAY out of her way) that night. A friend picked me up for coffee the next day (read: matcha latte and hot chocolate because we’re cool like that) and gave me a ride to church. My parents gave me advice and sent me encouraging texts. 

All of these things, to me, were the love of God in action. Every word, every act, was God reminding me that it doesn’t matter if I can feel him, it doesn’t matter if I can make sense of difficult portions of the bible, it doesn’t matter if I feel like I can believe in any given moment. He is always here. He with us, and he is in his Church. His church of Facebook commenters and ride offerers and coffee takers and mechanic number givers and Instagram likers. 

I know this sequence of events is not an anecdote for the problems I presented at the beginning. I guess I don’t really intend it to be. But it is one of the many reasons why I stay, despite the problems I face every day, and despite the fact that logically this reason doesn’t really hold up for lots of people. “After all,” I imagine some replying,  “community can be found in more than just a religious commonality.” And you’re right. It can. 

I can’t really explain why I think this kind of community is best. It just kind of keeps proving itself everyday through every breakup, breakdown, and breakthrough. It strives to be selfless and generous and kind because of a God who is perfectly all three to infinity and beyond. 

Christianity is not easy. It doesn’t come with instructions, and it’s not a step-by-step process. It’s often not well represented or respected, and its history is complicated. But that’s okay. Everything does not need to fit into boxes. Not every story is an anecdote, and not every problem needs a solution. But every human needs a place to belong. I’ve found that here, so why should I leave? 

Love Bekah 

This blog post is dedicated to my dear friend Mackenzie. He will be the designated puke-bucket-holder at my eventual wedding. This is my first blog in a long time, and it’s because he told me “Don’t let school get in the way of doing what you love. Write.”

I got a book for my birthday called “Furiously Happy” by Jenny Lawson. This book is the result of the blogger’s candid look at her own mental health and the internet loving her for it. The somewhat conservative Christian in me is mildly offended at her language and sometimes inappropriate subject matter (please note this as my official disclaimer. You can’t come back and say BEKAH YOU TOLD ME TO READ THIS BOOK AND IT’S GOT BAD LANGUAGE AND INAPPROPRIATE SUBJECT MATTER! You have been warned), but the clinically anxious person in me feels like she can breathe deep. Because someone has put into words what it’s like.

Some of my early memories of what Jenny calls her “long-term abusive boyfriend” (aka anxiety disorder, pg xvi) are being unable to sleep because I was SURE I could smell smoke and my house was going to burn down with my family (and my yellow blankie) inside of it; walking halfway to school with my grandparents, making it to the playground, and running home as fast as I could, crying because I didn’t understand why I was so afraid when I never had been before; having stomach aches that were unpredictable and didn’t make sense; approaching bedtime and realizing I had to try to go to sleep and feeling unexaplainable and overwhelming panic; puking before every lifesaving/lifeguarding course began; puking before a job interview at a pool where I had to do physical standards; walking to work just focusing on breathing, because my brain was telling me there were reasons to panic about going to work.

The more I mull it over, the more things come up that I realize fall under the tags #childhoodmemories and #anxietydisorder.

I knew it was bad around this time four years ago when I realized that just thinking about going to work made my stomach feel nauseous and my heart pound on a daily basis. I remember calling my mom in tears, not knowing what to do or how to fix it. That day four years ago was my first step into the world of mental health and understanding how my brain works.

Generalized Anxiety Disorder, save for a miracle of God, is not curable. Mental health is “managed,” not cured. The drugs I take help me feel in control, which curbs the panic that happens when I think I might panic. (It’s a vicious cycle). Checking things off a list assures me that I’m not as lazy as I feel when getting out of bed in the morning is a struggle, and vacuuming the floor satisfies the need to clean something, anything, to prove to myself that I can in fact be successful at something. Going to a therapist gets everything out of my own head and onto someone else’s notebook, so that I don’t have to carry it on my own anymore.

It hasn’t been all bad. A while ago I read a fascinating article by Scott Stossel,  editor of The Atlantic. Scott has struggled with anxiety and other disorders quite intensely for his whole life. At the end of the article (spoiler alert), he noted something his wife said to him:

“I hate your anxiety, and I hate that it makes you unhappy. But what if there are things that I love about you that are connected to your anxiety? ... What if,” she asked, getting to the heart of the matter, “you’re cured of your anxiety and you become a total jerk?”

My anxiety, and my awakening awareness to it, has changed me. I used to be a loud extrovert who spoke before thinking and who saw things as extremely black and white; someone who didn’t care what anyone thought, no matter how weird she allowed herself to be. There are definitely multiple factors that lead to me becoming the person I am now, but I think it was my anxiety that drove me inward. It was my anxiety that forced me to think about myself and my reactions and how I came across to others. It was my anxiety that helped me internalize “treat others as you would have others treat you” to a depth that, without it, I’m sure I would not have achieved.

The reason why I have not written about this extensively, save for passing comments, is not that I am afraid of how I may be seen. I just don’t want to be seen as someone who I am not. I don’t want to be underestimated or misunderstood. My anxiety is both a strength, and a weakness. For as much as it has given me fear, panic, and unrest, it has also given me emotional awareness, empathy, understanding, and an immeasurable number of hilarious stories.

And so, like Jenny Lawson, I am committed to being #furiouslyhappy. My anxiety is a part of me, but it will not keep me from traveling and learning languages and loving people and trying new things and enjoying food and adventuring. Nor will it tie me down with its stereotypes. Anxiety is descriptive not attributive. I am not my anxiety. Today, I admit it out loud. 

My name is Bekah. I have generalized anxiety disorder and I will be furiously happy.

**The C&MA, or the Christian and Missionary Alliance, is an evangelical church denomination in Canada and the United States. It recently changed its policy on women in positions of church leadership, allowing women ministers to be ordained, which gives them the same privileges and responsibilities as ministers who are men. The debate rages on, however, about whether or not these women can or should be senior pastors (the highest level of church leadership). The topic of women in ministry has been controversial for a long time in the Christian community, and it is close to my heart. This letter springs out of my love for the C&MA Church in the midst of this conversation. Dear Church: You have been in my life for 22 years. As a child, I ran rampant through your halls like only a tyrannical pastor's toddler can. As a teenager I sang on your worship teams, stumbled my way through piano lessons in your sanctuary, and made countless Powerpoints for Sunday mornings. As a young adult, I have had incredible opportunities to lead worship from your stage and preach the Gospel from your pulpit. I love you. But now, my beloved Church, I hear rumours of a split. People are angry. People are hurt. People are confused. Words like "feminism," "complimentarianism," and "egalitarianism" are at the center of continuous, unresolved conflicts. Lines have been drawn. Sides have been taken. I have heard stories of disagreements at General Assembly, and whispers of churches threatening to leave the denomination. There seems to be a dark cloud looming over the Christian and Missionary Alliance. Everyone knows it's there. We're all fixated on it, wondering what it will do and where it will go. That cloud has a name. We call it "Women in Ministry." As a strong, single, independent woman who has struggled through four years of classes at your university (Ambrose University), I could give you a speech. I could tell you what side I'm on in a passionate plea from my generation. I could try to change minds on the other side. But I know that the things I would say have already been said, and as the human condition would have it, we are bad at listening to other opinions when we believe we are right. Stating my argument, no matter how well written or passionate, is no longer helpful in this situation, where too many people have already made their own well-written, and some not-so-well-written, pleas for change. So instead of asking you to pick a side, Church, I'm asking you to choose to stick together. For the sake of me, my family, and my future children, please do not become another example of "bad Christians" in a society that is already disillusioned with us. I have more faith in us than that. We do not have to prove to our detractors that they are right about us, that we devour our own in a crusade to be "theologically correct." Because in truth, both sides have clear, logical arguments that use scripture. Whether or not you agree with the other side does not change the fact that they have put in just as much thought and biblical exegesis into their argument as you have. Yes, there are holes and inconsistencies in those arguments, but using a text so ancient and so far removed from its original context makes mistakes inevitable. On both sides. It's near impossible to achieve perfect exegesis, and even if/when we do, it isn't because of our own skill. Good exegesis is the work of the Holy Spirit through us. And I believe the Holy Spirit resides on both sides of the line. This is important. The way we view women as a church, in light of scripture and the way this world is changing, is important. I am not asking us to forsake that, and I'm not trying to say that this whole issue is insignificant; I know that there's more to it than what I can see. But the moment where we let the discussion divide us into camps and turn our backs on each other is the moment where the issue of Women in Ministry becomes more important than the reason we were gathered in the first place: Jesus. That means living like him as best as we can. I think that taking sides against each other takes the focus off of Christ more than being on the "wrong" side ever would.

I would love to preach every Sunday. I love to preach and teach and write and sing, all things that senior pastors do. But I would rather preach occasionally as an associate pastor to a church that is whole than regularly as the senior pastor to a church that is broken and scarred from this war that may tear us apart. I don't want a Church that is more broken than it already is. And I don't think you do either. So Church, my plea to you is this: please don't let this issue be a reason for divorce. Your children need you. I need you. We need you to listen to each other, and choose unity despite differences of opinion. It's possible. It's hard. It’s messy. But it's possible. I believe in us. Lord willing (and I believe he is), we can do this. To you, my brothers and sisters, I leave Ephesians 4:1-5. Read it more than once. Let it soak in. Breath. Be encouraged. Smile. Did I mention breathe? It's going to be okay.

"I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit--just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call--one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all." Ephesians 4:1-5, ESV

**Please note, this is my personal blog and not my onSite blog. Also don't worry, I promise you an onSite update soon including pictures.**

Christmas (or this holiday season as some call it) is a complicated time of year.

Lots of us argue that it shouldn't be complicated. It should be about love and peace and family, and for a lot of us, Jesus. It's supposed to be warm and fuzzy, unplagued by the normal YouTube-comment-style-arguments that frequent this time of year on the internet and beyond. (If you don't get the YouTube thing you can just replace that whole section with "petty" or "scary" or "horrible" or all three).

But for lots of us, it is a complicated time of year. It's complicated because we grew up with "Christmas", but now there are "so many more ways" to say it. Sometimes we don't know which one to say, especially if we are trying not to be a Christian stereotype. We want to be humble, but also truthful to what we believe in. And that's hard in a culture that will protect Islam and Buddhism and Atheism to the ends of the earth and the internet, but not Christianity.

It's complicated because there's a lot of pain with holidays, and the biggest of them all in North America is no exception. A culture that likes to let pain stay below the surface in public settings doesn't know how to deal with that. We mention the sad nature of Christmas at our church services, we sing "Joy to the World," and then we are left wondering how to apply the words to a life that doesn't make sense right now.

It's complicated because every year that one article goes around educating Christians about the true origins of Christmas, paganism and all. I don't know if it's entirely accurate to state that Christians stole Christmas from the pagans. But I don't want to argue about it. So I set up my tree and my nativity scene side by side and drink some hot coco by a bright fire. Because change happens and I can deal with that.

And it's complicated because it's really hard to pretend it's not complicated. In a perfect Christian world it would be easy to drop it all and sing carols and watch a reenactment of Christ's birth without politics, religion, and pain fighting for your attention. But we don't live in such a world.

It's easy to say "This is the greatest gift of all." and "This is what is most important." and "Jesus." in one home-run-hitting, point-driving sentence. It would be easy for me to end this that way.

But Jesus didn't take many easy-way-outs that I know of. Because Christmas isn't easy. It's not supposed to be easy. (In the same way that I don't think Mary giving birth for the first time was easy). Instead of being easy I hope this struggle to figure out Christmas amidst the easy answers and scripted lines is just good. I hope I'm doing a good thing. Because lots of Christians, lots of PEOPLE, have done many not good things in the pursuit of their own agendas this time of year.

So maybe by asking the hard questions and striving for authenticity I will do a good thing and come one step closer to the "True Meaning of Christmas." Today that means many things to many people. But for me it's an ancient story that we keep examining year after year for hope that we're not the only ones who lead complicated, imperfect, broken lives. (Hello teen pregnancy, a whole lot of traveling you don't necessarily want to do, and some freaky supernatural-like stuff).

For me it's about a man who was a baby who is God who showed us what love really looks like. And love is perhaps the most complicated word of them all.

All this to say, just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Don't stop trying. It's complicated but it's possible to make it out alive. There is hope. Because you're not alone.

Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. Feliz Navidad. Joyeux Noel. All love and peace to you this holiday season.